The Sphincts rumbles ominously then says to you "I am the Great Sphincts! Answer my final riddle or I shall consume your security! Tell me, O foolish conservative, what would happen if Sarah Palin, Chuck Norris and Barney Frank held a rifle marksmanship competition?"

You have:

Stylish fedora

Bullwhip

Vintage Walther P-38 w/ 6 rounds

Well-worn leather jacket

Old brass lantern (glowing serenely)

PHEW! ALMOST DONE!.

Please leave your answer in the comments, where you will find a link to continue...

The Sphincts is not done with you yet. He has more riddles up his sleeve. The Sphincts says to you "I am the Great Sphincts! Answer my riddles or I shall consume your wealth! Tell me, O foolish conservative, what is the last digit of pie?"

You have:

Stylish fedora

Bullwhip

Vintage Walther P-38 w/ 6 rounds

Well-worn leather jacket

Old brass lantern (glowing serenely)

A TALKING SPHINCTS? DON'T THEY MAKE A PILL FOR THAT?.

Please leave your answer in the comments, where you will find a link to continue...

You choose a passage and begin to explore. Despite your normally reliable sense of direction, numerous forks and intersections make it impossible to keep your bearing. You start to wonder if you are hopelessly lost.

You have:

Stylish fedora

Bullwhip

Vintage Walther P-38 w/ 6 rounds

Well-worn leather jacket

Old brass lantern (glowing serenely)

HIT THE 'BACK' BUTTON ON YOUR BROWSER. MAYBE YOU CAN STILL GET OUT OF THIS.

You choose a passage and make your way. Some ancient hand tools left by the Sphincts builders remain where they were left, untouched for millenia. A low voice, with what Rush Limbaugh calls "godlike reverb" seems to be coming from the Sphincts itself! The Sphincts says to you "I am the Great Sphincts! Answer my riddles or I shall consume your liberties! Tell me, O foolish conservative, why does it pee when I burn?" You ask the Sphincts if perhaps he spoke "inartfully" and whether he really meant "burn when I pee?" The Sphincts replies forcefully "DO NOT QUESTION MY AUTHORITY! ANSWER THE RIDDLE!"

You have:

Stylish fedora

Bullwhip

Vintage Walther P-38 w/ 6 rounds

Well-worn leather jacket

Old brass lantern (glowing serenely)

A TALKING SPHINCTS? DON'T THEY MAKE A PILL FOR THAT?.

Please leave your answer in the comments, where you will find a link to continue...

You light the lantern and find yourself at an intersection of twisty passages, all alike. You marvel at the thought that no other person has been here for centuries. There is a thick layer of dust on the floor. Ancient footprints can still be seen it the dust. Faint markings of hieroglyphs adorn the walls, long faded. As an archeologist, you are utterly fascinated. As a human being, you are frightened to the edge of insanity. You take a moment to compose yourself. You wonder how low the lantern will give light. You realize that you'd better hurry.

You sidle along carefully in the darkness... Distant rustlings grow nearer... YOU ARE NOT ALONE! You hastily try to light the lantern, but it is too late! You have wandered into the slathering fangs of a GRUE!

You slide down a long ramp into the darkness. Some minor road rash later, you slide to a dusty halt. It is pitch black, which causes you to wonder if something sinister awaits you. A mummy? Some other evil?

You draw the Walther smoothly from your holster and put one very well-placed shot right between the large man's eyes. People shriek in fear as he falls like a tree struck by lightning. The crowd mostly scatters, but one grim fellow approaches and says "My name is Ishmael Montoya. You killed my brother. Prepare to die!"

You strive to remember the lessons you learned in Rune Deciphering 101. Maybe you had too many beers before the final, as you can remember nothing. Rocks whiz past your head. Your adrenalin is coursing. Things look bad. A glimmer of recollection...Yes...You recognize some of the glyphs and runes! They are instructions for opening a secret doorway! You follow these instructions, and the Sphinct's ponderous ear slides to the side with a stony groan. Through a hail of thrown rocks, you make a daring leap into the opening and slide down a ramp into the darkness...

You open fire, and some of Ishmael's many brothers fall. Some flee. Others keep up their stone-throwing. You run out of ammo. You duck and dodge. Eventually one of them connects. A rock strikes your head, you fall from the Sphincts, break your neck and are now a buzzard snack.

As it turns out, Ishmael has many other brothers, who are enraged. You turn towards the desert and make your run for it, with the angry mass of swarthy Arabs in hot pursuit behind you. The fleetness of your sprint causes your precious fedora to fall from your head. You hesitate briefly to pick it up before continuing your run. To keep this from happening again, you hold the hat down with one hand. This affects your gait and the mob is now gaining on you. All appears lost as you approach the ruins of the Great Sphincts. The nose of the Sphincts is comically elongated - perhaps from telling too many lies. It occurs to you that your only hope is to grab that nose with your whip and use your momentum to swing up onto the Sphinct's back, out of the reach of your pursuers. This you attempt, and in a graceful arcing motion, you swing to the top of the Spincts' back. The angry throng begins hurling stones at you. You duck low to avoid the rocks and notice some very small runes carved there.

You have:

Stylish fedora

Bullwhip

Vintage Walther P-38 w/ 6 rounds

Well-worn leather jacket

Old brass lantern

CAN YOU NAME ONE FEMALE OBAMA APPOINTEE THAT ISN'T UGLIER THAN A WOMBAT'S BUTT?.

You draw the Walther smoothly from your holster and put one very well-placed shot right between the large man's eyes. People shriek in fear as he falls like a tree struck by lightning. The crowd mostly scatters, but one grim fellow approaches and says "My name is Ishmael Montoya. You killed my brother. Prepare to die!"

Thursday, July 19, 2001

Departing the booth with lantern in hand, you are confronted by a large scimitar-wielding man clad in black. He yells something at you in Arabic:هذا هو الإرث فانوس الأسرة ، ويجب ألا تقع في أيدي من كافر. تعطيه لي أو " يموت!" He swings the scimitar like he means it, and strides purposely towards you.

You have:

Stylish fedora

Bullwhip

Vintage Walther P-38 w/ 8 rounds

Well-worn leather jacket

Old brass lantern

WHEN HILLARY WALKS, THE FRICTION OF HER THIGHS RUBBING SOUNDS LIKE A DOGGIE SQUEAK TOY.

Wednesday, July 18, 2001

Amazingly, the UN responds in record time. Blue-helmeted peacekeepers arrive promptly. First they disarm you of your gun and whip, telling you that it is for your own good. Then they proceed to harass the locals and rape some of the women. They begin to grow weary of these things and then start to rifle through the merchants' booths, taking what they wish. In this state of distraction, they fail to notice that Scimitar Man is slicing you up like deli meat (or that nasty hand that Andy posted the other day).

As it turns out, Ishmael has many other brothers, who gather in behind him. You turn towards the desert and make your run for it, with the angry mass of swarthy Arabs in hot pursuit behind you. The fleetness of your sprint causes your precious fedora to fall from your head. You hesitate briefly to pick it up before continuing your run. To keep this from happening again, you hold the hat down with one hand. This affects your gait and the mob is now gaining on you. All appears lost as you approach the ruins of the Great Sphincts. The nose of the Sphincts is comically elongated - perhaps from telling too many lies. It occurs to you that your only hope is to grab that nose with your whip and use your momentum to swing up onto the Sphinct's back, out of the reach of your pursuers. This you attempt, and just as your arcing swing looks like it may work, the Sphinct's nose breaks off and you fall awkwardly to the ground. Ishmael and his brothers mercilessly beat you to into human hamburger.

Ishmael succumbs to another well placed shot. Unfortunately he has many other brothers, who now hopelessly surround you. You valiantly fire your remaining six rounds into the nearest foes and begin to flog the others with your bullwhip. Unfortunately this is not enough to prevent to angry horde from overwhelming you. They kick, punch, beat, stomp and stab you to oblivion.

You have:

Stylish fedora

Bullwhip

Vintage Walther P-38 w/ no rounds

Well-worn leather jacket

YOU ARE HERE TO SOLVE THE RIDDLES, NOT TO CREATE INTERNATIONAL INCIDENTS!

You draw the Walther smoothly from your holster and put one very well-placed shot right between the large man's eyes. People shriek in fear as he falls like a tree struck by lightning. The crowd mostly scatters, but one grim fellow approaches and says "My name is Ishmael Montoya. You killed my brother. Prepare to die!"

The merchant takes great offense at your attitude and begins yelling in Arabic and gesturing wildly. A huge man wearing black, hears the ruckus and paces towards you, swinging a large scimitar threateningly.

You are in a crowded middle eastern marketplace. There is much activity going on all around - mostly locals going about their business, but also so tourists sampling the wares. At a booth nearby, a man sells rugs while his trained monkey snacks on a date. At another booth a gaptoothed man offers chickens and butchered meat - that appears to have been butchered much too long ago. As you pass your way through, a shopkeeper presents a brass lantern and says "You buy! You buy lantern! Cheap!"